The House Pets
by Unproper Grammar
Summary: But it had been three years since they had said 'I do' and neither seemed sick of mundane and each kiss still felt like the first time. Yes, domestic life suited Troy and Gabriella Bolton just fine.


**The House Pets**

_Do you remember when we first moved in together? The piano took up the living room. You played me 'Boogie Woogie', I play you love songs. You'd say we're playing house, now you still say we are._

_All these things, they come and go, and lord it feels so long. Over ten years have gone by, and you're still mine._

_- Do You Remember? by Jack Johnson_

He is perfectly content to watch her sleep. He's happy to ignore the fact that they've shifted through the night and that she is huddled to his left side; arms and legs intertwined so that the weight is crushing him, numbing that side entirely.

He finds that appropriate, for that side of him runs to his heart and she's the only one who's touched it, the only one who ever will. It's natural that only she could turn it on and off.

He smiles, running his right hand down the length of her, stopping to rest on the curve of her bare hip. He sighs.

He could get used to this.

--

She makes an effort to get out of bed before him, even though she knows that he's been up for ages watching her as she wakes. She's all too pleased to let his blue eyes follow the contours of her body as she leaves the warmth of their nest, wearing nothing but his shirt.

She wakes to cook him breakfast, determined that he eats something of nutritional value. She reveals in the spotlessness of their kitchen and sighs contently when she gathers the items needed to prepare the meal. She cracks the eggs, one by one delicately with her small hands.

She loves the way his eyes light up as she slides a plate to him and the way he pecks her cheek in thanks. She loves the soft and hard ridges of his thighs as she slips into his lap and they eat off the shared plate.

He envelopes her in his warmth and in his happiness, his whole being and she knows she'll never tire of this.

--

They are sitting on opposite sides couch watching some lame romantic comedy. Or rather, she's watching and he's watching _her_. He loves the way her toes wiggle in his lap as she stretches them. He loves the way her nose scrunches up when she laughs at a cheesy line of dialogue and the way she absentmindedly plays with strands of dark hair.

He marvels at the way her teeth move over her bottom lip as she wills herself not to cry when the music swells and the heroine dies. He adores the way she fits into the crook of his neck and underneath his arm when her willpower isn't enough and she breaks into sobs and tears. He loves the soft feel of her skin underneath the pad of his thumb when he wipes the liquid away.

And when he leans down to capture her lips delicately, he is ecstatic at the way she responds as if it's the first time and they're sixteen and standing in the gymnasium at East High. He loves when he enlaces their fingers together and he can feel the cool metal of her wedding ring, branding her as his forever.

He knows he'll never tire of the label.

--

She's grown used to waiting up for him. The living room couch is now her new best friend as she lounges there and stares at the phone, stares out the huge picture window and waits. She waits for his open arms, for his comforting smell and the warmth that radiates off of him.

Sometimes she waits as late as two AM and he scolds her for doing so, though he's really just upset with himself for having to work so late in the first place. But she just sleepily kisses his neck and tells him there was no way she could sleep without him by her side anyway.

And as they tumbled into bed, she basked in the comfort of his arms, in the comfort of his steady breathing. She traced the lines of his face as if memorizing them all over again and though her tired body begs her to sleep, her heart screams for her to continue falling for him all over again.

She doesn't think she'll ever hit the ground again.

--

When he wakes to the sound of her singing Jeff Buckley songs in the shower on lazy Saturday mornings, he decides that she's better than any alarm clock. Finally, when she emerges from her long shower clad in nothing but a towel, he puts undressing her and helping her dress on top of his favourite things to do list.

As he chomps on spoonfuls of cereal while reading the morning newspaper, she decides that his facial expressions are more entertaining that morning television and watches him instead. When he dribbles milk on his chin just like a child, she decides that he is as adorable as one and can't wait for them to have one of their own.

He gets ridiculously excited at work when he excuses himself 'to call my wife' or when he unpacks his lunch and his colleagues stare at the intricate food in envy and he gets to say 'my wife made it for me'.

She loves it when she's trying to return something at a retail shop, but they won't refund the amount because the card used to pay for the item was under her husband's name. She feels a small thrill pass through her when she collects the mail and reads the bills that say 'Gabriella Bolton'.

They both share a smile when they receive Christmas cards or invitations that read 'To Mr. And Mrs. Bolton' or 'The Boltons'. They enjoy mundane things such as grocery shopping and picking out furniture. To them, every experience is one they'd like photographed just because they never want to forget it.

Everyone said that this would be old news. They told them that after a year together as a couple, they would be bored and look for different things to grow up on. And when they didn't and they stayed together and eventually married, everyone warned them that the spark would soon fade, that the honeymoon would pass and the true test of their love would show.

But it had been three years since they had said 'I do' and neither seemed sick of mundane and each kiss still felt like the first time. They enjoyed letting everyone watch like animals at the zoo, huddled in their house, marvelling at them.

They didn't need anything more than orange juice in the mornings and news to discuss while drinking it. They didn't want anything more than sharing a bed and straightening the sheets when they were finished. They lived for the brief kisses before dashing off to work and the long intimate moments in the middle of the night when the other woke and desire was put before sleep.

Everyone else grew to accept it: domestic life suited Troy and Gabriella Bolton just fine.


End file.
